


The Colour Thieves

by lestericalphan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Amazingphil - Freeform, Blood, Kidnapping, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, Swearing, Violence, danisnotonfire - Freeform, the colour thieves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5047564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lestericalphan/pseuds/lestericalphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm Phil, that's Dodie, and that's PJ. And if you haven't guessed by now, we are Colour Thieves"</p><p>The Government has banned colour, creativity, and homosexuality in Braith, the Black and White City, in order to provide only the necessary requirements for life, but some escape the confines of the city to become Colour Thieves, vowing to return the world to the way it ought to be. Dan, a perfectly normal citizen, gets kidnapped by a band of Thieves, stealing him away from all he knows for unknown reasons. But will they change Dan’s way of thinking or just scare him away?</p><p>Author: @lestericalphan<br/>Artist: @vocalsinmyveins<br/>Beta: @moonfullofstars</p><p>Word count: 19,351<br/>Warnings: Blood, Violence, Swearing and Kidnapping</p><p>Art for the story: http://vocalsinmyveins.tumblr.com/post/131758668375/her-grey-eyes-glistened-with-excitement-as-soon-as<br/>Playlist of music: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHteWXLkw2LmW4H5iK8KevA7a8XBDYFBq<br/>Wattpad:https://www.wattpad.com/story/52469187-the-colour-thieves<br/>Tumblr: http://lestericalphan.tumblr.com/post/131758763568/the-colour-thieves-summary-im-phil-thats</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Colour Thieves

**Author's Note:**

> VERY IMPORTANT NOTICE! The music playlist is very closely linked to the story. It includes all the songs mentioned and has been wrote with listening to the songs in mind.

_They lurk in the shadows and grab you when you are alone;_

_They hypnotise you and make you one of their own._

_So run when you see the Colour Thieves come._

_Run and make it safely home._

It was no different from any other day, an average Tuesday in the streets of Braith, the imposing black and white city. Surrounded by sunshine and the noises of everyday life, Dan took a shortcut between two plain white buildings. He was hopeful it would shorten his fifteen minute walk from school and get him home sooner than usual. With his stiff shirt and freshly pressed pants, he looked like everyone else: normal, plain, the way he was supposed to be.

Focused on the empty sidewalk in front of him, he didn't notice the shadows following him or the soft whispers echoing in the unusually dark alley. His only warning was an unfamiliar melodic sound, but by the time he noticed something was off, it was too late. He felt something hard hit him round the back of his head before the ground was much closer than he last remembered it being.

Dan couldn’t see clearly through the searing pain, but he was able to make out three figures looming above him. Their hushed whispers and frantic movements barely registered through the throbbing ache in his head. As the one who had hit him looked up and down the alley, the others tied his hands and feet with harsh rope and, too weak to fight back, he let them.

All three were wearing loose white clothes, stained with clashing and complimenting shades of colour some which Dan had seen or could name, bright even in the dim alley. Their faces were covered by equally stained masks, keeping him from getting a good look at his captor's faces and muffling their voices.

The smallest stood to the side, holding the wooden object that must have hit him, brown hair sticking out of the bottom of a worn out mask. The taller two were focused on tying him up, the only noticeable difference between them being that one was wearing pilot goggles with darkened lenses.

Still dazed, he glimpsed blurred faces as they briefly removed their masks, their words a jumble too hard to focus on. Through watery eyes he saw the one dressed in dark turquoise lean down as the others conversed. Belatedly, Dan realised what was happening, but before he could scream a piece of fabric was tied around his mouth, cutting him off.

"Shh, little one, and it will all be easy for you," Turquoise said in a deep voice, checking that the ropes restraining him were tight enough. "It will soon be over and then all will be well."

Dan felt himself rising in the air as the other two hoisted him onto Turquoise’s back before Turquoise, apparently the leader, signaled to them with a quick flick of the wrist. Before he could process what was being said, the Earth started spinning as they ran, Dan bumping around on his kidnappers back.

He should have shouted, should have struggled, but soon the familiar streets of black and white gave way to a blur and the spinning world faded into darkness as Dan was lulled to sleep.

* * *

 

When he next opened his eyes, Dan was in a square room with barely any light. He flexed his hands and found there were no longer ropes tying him up, wrists raw and feet numb and bare but still free. There was a strong smell of paint and the cold was already making him shiver as he looked around at the small, unfamiliar room.

Every surface was flat and cold, but far from plain as colours were scattered across the walls. From shades Dan had never seen before to familiar browns and blues, every inch of wall was painted with some sort of bright colour. He recognized some from hair and eyes, but he'd never seen the more vivid ones before; they simply did not exist inside the city. The colourful wall confirmed Dan’s initial suspicions; he was in the hands of Colour Thieves.

The paintings (that must be what they are) depicted strange objects and places, not made of black and white but of spirit and life. Brushstrokes made up frost on the trees he'd only heard about in bedtime stories, sunshine glistening on a vast body of water, endless green fields, and more things besides that he couldn't even give name to.

Turning to look down at himself, he found he'd been laid on a mattress with a blanket, ridden with holes, thrown haphazardly over him. Under the layers of paint he could see that the entire room was made of concrete and the floor was cold under his feet as he swung his legs over the edge. There were no windows in his cell, only a rotting wooden door at the opposite end of the room from him. 

Dan stood up, stumbling a little, and walked across the hard ground towards the light. There was the odd pebble scattered around that he had to make sure to avoid, especially without socks or shoes, but he slowly made his way across the room without an accident and looked through one of the cracks in the old door.

Standing in the shafts of light coming from the door's cracks, he could hear the distant sound of talking. Ear pressed to the wood, he could now make out the same melodic noise he had heard right before his attack, joined now by an equally sweet voice and the murmur of cheerful voices. He pulled away to peer through one of the larger cracks, eager to see what his kidnappers looked like.

The first person he saw was a young girl with dull grey eyes who couldn't be more than twelve. She was sitting on a sagging sofa with an unfamiliar object held carefully in her lap. The brown hair that had been sticking out from under her mask was now curled slightly, framing her oval face, and her dress and the flowers in her hair were something like the blue he was used to. She looked too young and innocent to be a criminal, but knowing what little he did about Colour Thieves, Dan knew to avoid her all the same.

On the other side of the room were two men, both older looking than Dan, arguing with each other. The taller of the two had jet black hair much the same style as Dan's and was stoney faced as he argued with the other, who looked rough and worn out in a battered looking jacket that had been patched up many times.

Standing next to him was a man with a shock of curly brown hair who looked much more relaxed and at ease. In one hand he was holding what looked like a much larger version of the wooden thing the girl had, but he didn't seem to notice its weight as he gestured gracefully with his hands, nearly knocking it into the nearby wall and sofa several times. Their conversation was loud enough that Dan could hear it clearly through the door.

"I've heard they were offering £12,000 for him," the shorter man said in a singsong voice.

"I heard maybe around £50,000," the girl piped up, pausing in her trilling.

"Not that it matters."

The deep tones of the taller one rang out over them, slightly anxious sounding. Dan was just leaning against the door to hear better when it let out a loud creak, rusty hinges screeching in protest. The door didn't open, thankfully, but he didn't have to look to feel the eyes of his captors turn towards him.

"Do you think he's awake?" The girl whispered.

The dark haired one stood up and strode towards the door as he said, "Time to find out. I think he's slept long enough."

Dan jumped, despite the fact that his legs were still aching and sore, and ran back to the mattress. He had barely enough time to sit down before the man entered and instead of lying down, he quickly tried to make it look like he was about to stand up.

"He's awake," the man called over his shoulder to his companions in the front room. "Daniel, is it?"

He offered his hand, shaking Dan's once before pushing him back into a sitting position. "Yes, I know all about you, Daniel."

"It's Dan, actually."

"Dan," the man corrected himself, "you're all over the news. They know you've gone missing, but not how or why or to where."

"You're probably wondering that yourself," he added, almost as an afterthought. Dan nodded; this man seemed to be one not to be interrupted. "I'm not going to tell you, not yet at least. All that will be revealed in time."

He paced the length of the room in front of the bed, Dan looking up at him as he continued muttering.

"I suppose you're probably hungry? I mean, you were asleep nearly a whole day."

Come to think of it, Dan's stomach was rumbling. He nodded, still silent.

"I'll go get you something." The man made to leave. "Oh, you can call me Phil, by the way."

Phil left and Dan soon heard clattering and banging from what he presumed was the kitchen. The door was open, letting in some warmth and light that was soon blocked by the girl's head.

Her grey eyes glistened with excitement as soon as she saw him and she glanced back over her shoulder before creeping in. Walking right up to him, she stared at Dan like she was looking at an animal in a zoo. She seemed to be examining him, poking at the cuts and bruises on his face.

"Does it hurt to have colour?" She asked, looking at the blue and purple bruises.

"What do you mean?"

"It's illegal, isn't it?"

Before she could explain, Phil came back, frowning and waving the girl out of the room as he said, "That's quite enough questions, Dodie."

Once he had shepherded her out of the room, Phil placed the plate with some beans on toast on the bed in front of Dan. Even though he hadn't brought a knife or fork, Dan immediately wolfed it down. Phil made a noise that sounded like a laugh before leaning against the wall to watch him.

Slowing down to breathe, Dan took this time to assess his kidnapper. Phil was tall, a little taller than Dan himself, and had bright cornflower blue eyes that shone even in the dim room. His face was covered in stubble and he had rough but defined features, giving him a face that seemed to be constantly frowning.

His clothes, meanwhile, were all splattered with paint and stains. His black jeans were ripped and patched at the knee and he was wearing so many layers of tattered fabric that it was hard to tell where one ended and the next started. His many shirts and jumpers and jackets might have been white once but had since turned grey. All of his clothes were covered in so many colours it almost covered up the original fabric, and together they gave him a tough appearance, one that immediately intimidated Dan.

When he had finally finished eating Phil picked up his plate and asked in his deep but calming voice, "I suppose you want some new clothes? Yours are quite ripped. Sorry about that, but they were pretty awful."

For the first time Dan looked down at his body. His tight plain clothes were ripped, some with blood seeping through from the cuts still open underneath. He was suddenly very aware of the large lump forming on the back of his head and the other bruises covering his body.

"Yeah, I guess," Dan mumbled.

"One second," Phil said, striding out of the room. He seemed to always walk with purpose, like every moment of his life was an important meeting or a battle he was needed for. A minute later he returned, bringing with him a pile of folded colour-stained clothes.

"These are some old clothes of mine," Phil said as he handed him the pile, "but I think they'll fit."

Once his sore fingers closed enough to hold them, Dan found there were several kinds of shirts and pants, all frayed and stained like Phil's own. Dan tried to pull off his shirt but found that it was glued to his body with dried blood (his blood, but he was trying not to think about that).

"Here, let me help you."

Phil reached out a cautious hand, carefully unbuttoning Dan's shirt and trying not to pull it away from his skin too quickly. Dan held his breath as Phil pulled off the tattered and bloodstained shirt as gently as possible. As he was folding it neatly, he glanced at Dan's bare chest for half a second and Dan could have sworn he was admiring it.

"PJ, can you fetch the first aid kit?" Phil called from where he was sitting.

The curly haired man from earlier came in immediately, like he'd been waiting just outside the door, and brought with him a little green box. He left as Phil rummaged around in the box full of medical supplies, fishing a few things out and setting them on the mattress next to him.

"This might sting, fair warning."

He dabbed carefully at Dan's chest and arms as Dan let out the occasional hiss. It wasn't too long before Phil had finished cleaning his wounds, tightly wrapping bandages around anything that needed it.

"Your legs look alright." Phil patted one of the bandages to make sure it wouldn't come loose. "Here." He tossed Dan some clothes and turned to face the opposite wall as he said, "I won't look."

Dan quickly got changed, not even objecting to the colour, and passed Phil his ruined clothes. When Phil turned back around, he gestured for Dan to tilt his head down and looked him over for any further injuries.

"There's a bit of a lump from Dodie's ukulele, sorry. It's not bleeding so there's nothing I can do about it, but that'll go down in time."

Phil packed up the rest of the kit before shouting towards the open door, "Did you hear that, Dodie? You left a mark."

Dodie yet again poked her head round the door, eyes wide.

"Really?" She asked in disbelief.

"Let's see then," PJ said as he sauntered back in the room.

Suddenly Dan was faced with all three outlaws staring at him. He swallowed nervously, unsure of what to do, but Phil spoke up before he could think of anything.

"Oh, we haven't formally introduced ourselves have we?" Phil got up from the bed and went to stand by the other two. "I'm Phil, that's Dodie, and that's PJ. And if you haven't guessed by now, we are Colour Thieves."

* * *

 

Dan couldn't say his first night's stay was entirely comfortable, but it was much better than he would have hoped for.

His wounds were bound and treated, he had food, and, although he was kept to one room, there wasn't actually a lock on the door. Even the lumpy mattress was an improvement from the floor he had been expecting to sleep on. The most important thing was that he hadn't been chained to a wall and beaten, which is always a plus when being kidnapped. He had expected it to be worse and, though he still felt unsafe, it didn't matter as he fell asleep as soon as the Thieves left the room, exhausted by his ordeal.

He was woken the next morning by a disgruntled PJ, curls ruffled and out of place, who brought him some lumpy porridge before muttering something and leaving. The porridge wasn't too bad, and it was warm and came with a spoon, so he couldn't really complain.

A little while later Phil came in to collect his dish, asking politely how he'd slept and if he'd like to use the bathroom to wash up. It was almost like a hotel service, but a bit more dismal. He accepted and was led to the bathroom where Dodie was sat outside as guard.

It was a dingy little bathroom, but somehow cosy, much like the rest of the house. He peeled back his bandages, hissing a little, before he had a quick shower in the tiny corner they used for washing. When he shut off the water and got out, he could hear strings being plucked and the melody Dodie was humming under her breath. Dan replaced his bandages and put his clothes back on before saying anything.

"That's a nice sound you're making, Dodie," he half shouted through the door as he dried his hair.

"Thanks, mister. It's alright I guess," she chirped.

"What is it?" Dan asked.

"It's music. Just me, my ukulele, and my voice. I guess the Government never taught you what a ukulele is? Or what music is?"

"No, actually," Dan said, pausing to think. What else had the Government been hiding?

Dodie shook her head and explained, "Music is when your voice or an instrument makes a harmonious sound, and a ukulele is a small wooden instruments with four strings, like a small guitar."

"What's a guitar?"

Dodie sighed dramatically as Dan finished up, knocking on the door before she opened it and stood back to let him walk out.

"So Dodie, where's PJ?"

"Out at the Colour Market, not that it concerns you." Phil was sat on the sofa when Dodie led Dan back into what he guessed was the main part of the flat.

It was a small room between Dan's room and the bathroom, down the hall from what Dan assumed was the rest of the bedrooms. Open on one end to the kitchen, the room had very little furniture. There was a patched red sofa in front of a battered coffee table and an old TV, a tall chest of drawers in the opposite corner, but that was it. However, despite its sparse furnishings, the room had a homey, lived-in feel with its bright walls and what Dan assumed was a guitar leaning to one side of the sofa. On a few of the walls were decorations, smaller versions of the same kind of paintings in Dan's room adorning a few corners.

"The Colour Market is a marketplace that sells colour and supplies for us all, like a black market but with colour and style," Phil explained at Dan's look of confusion.

"Anyway," he continued, "we have things to do and people to see, so we're going to have to lock you back up. Sorry." He shrugged sympathetically as he guided Dan back into his room.

One hand on the door, Phil paused to say, "Not that you could, but don't try to leave, alright?"

With that he closed the door behind himself and wedged a chair underneath the handle. Dan could hear both of them grab their bags before the bang of the main door resonated through the room.

It took a second of looking through the door before Dan realised that he wasn't even going to try to run or escape. Why would he? As upset as he was that he had been kidnapped, there were was something about this place that made him want to stay. At least here they weren't lying to him and there was mysteries he wanted to uncover.

Eventually he went back to his "bed" and tried to make sense of what he'd witnessed so far. He stared up at the ceiling, contemplating whether this could be what the Government called hypnosis. Even though no one had waved a clock in face and muttered strange words, could that have been it? Or had he just woken up?

* * *

 

Dan was lying on his bed for what felt like hours before they returned. He wasn't annoyed, really; it had been quite peaceful, and the ceiling had lots of paint-filled cracks to study. But when you had just been kidnapped, you kind of expected it to be a bit more exciting than this.

Soon enough he heard the front door open, the flat filling with voices, and it wasn't long before his door opened to let in some dim light from the living room. Dan finally got up from his mattress to meet Phil at the door. It was dark outside now and the only light source in the room was a paraffin lantern above the coffee table, hissing away softly.

"Hey, good day?" Phil asked politely.

"Yeah, the ceiling's really interesting." Dan rolled his eyes, walking past him and slumping on the small sofa in the lounge.

"We should probably get something in there to keep you busy," Phil replied as he sat down next to Dan, "PJ's got some new paint to improve the walls and I'll look around to see what else we've got. The paint's a bit random in there at the moment, not very visually interesting."

"Why are being so nice?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Government always made it out like if we were kidnapped, you lot would keep us in chains and torture us and stuff."

"And how would that be useful to anyone?" Phil asked, staring at Dan curiously. 

Before Dan could reply, PJ called out that it was time for dinner, bringing plates of sweet potatoes and chicken to the coffee table. They didn't seem to have a proper table or chairs, but the sagging sofa seemed as good as anything and there were cushions scattered around for more seating.

"Tonight we feast!" PJ grinned. "They were on offer at the Market."

"We all know how much you love sweet potatoes, PJ, so shut up and eat already," Phil chuckled as PJ sat down. A second later a door opposite them banged open and the hurricane that was Dodie joined the table. Dan didn't move as the three Thieves filled their plates, feeling out of place in their tight-knit family.

"Don't think we wouldn't be feeding you too, Dan. Tuck in," PJ said through a mouthful, passing him a plate with silverware neatly laid out on top.

However it may have looked, the meal was far from bland, especially compared to the flavourless Government mush Dan was used to. The colourful food was mouthwatering and he kept eating until he simply couldn't anymore, about another two servings later.

The group ate in silence with the odd bit of chatter, although Dan wasn't paying attention; he found the food much more important. The Thieves talked about their upcoming missions (in vague terms, of course), and planned supply runs and such, but it wasn't long before the conversation took a more serious turn.

"So why are you guys Colour Thieves?" Dan asked, halfway through chomping on his last bit of chicken.

There was a pause as everyone stopped eating for a moment. The change was as sudden as a gunshot, the atmosphere immediately going cold as the casual conversation slammed to a halt. Dodie looked at PJ. PJ looked at Phil. And Phil looked at Dan before Phil swallowed his food and spoke.

"Well I like music, colour, and I'm a homosexual, so I hated the Government and ran away. It just made sense to be here, I suppose." Phil smiled kindly, leaning back in his chair and picking out some chicken from between his teeth. It took only a second before the mood relaxed again and PJ spoke up.

"I am an artist, musician, and bisexual, and I ran away with my ex-boyfriend." Dan followed PJ's eyes as he glanced over at Phil before becoming fixated on a bit of sweet potato still left on his plate.

"And then I bumped into these two by chance after I ran away when the Government found out I had painted my room a colour and I had a ukulele. Stupid mum told them," Dodie sighed. "Shock, horror, 'she's a young outlaw, oh no!'"

"And now we're all here. It was simple, really," Phil smiled and looked around the table. "What about you Dan?"

"What?"

"Well, you're dressed in colour, for one," PJ pointed out.

"But that's only because I borrowed these clothes from you guys. You kidnapped me and that's about it."

"What about the painted inside of the wardrobe in your room?" Dodie piped up. 

Dan whipped his head around and asked, "How did you know about that?"

"We aren't idiots, we do research into these sorts of things," Phil confided. He sighed and pushed his remaining food around on his plate. "We had to watch you for a while to make sure you were trustworthy. When you bought that paint, we knew."

Staring blankly at his empty plate, Dan frowned. "It was just brown."

"Still illegal," Phil smirked.

Dan could feel his face heat up.

"Look who's talking."

"Just be grateful."

"For what?" He finally snapped and shouted at Phil.

"Someone told the Government and they were coming for you, we just decided to help. If we hadn't come to get you that night, they would've taken you, and god knows where you'd be right now if they'd gotten to you first."

Dan shuddered as the implication set in. "So I can't go back?"

"I'm afraid not," PJ chipped in quietly, "unless you want to end up rotting in prison, or worse, the Institution."

The Institution was a correctional facility that was a cold, black building near Dan’s old school that nobody really knew about. No one knew what went on in there, but if you walked past it sometimes you could hear screams coming from inside. No one who went in ever came out.

Dan couldn't take it anymore and stood up from the sofa. Abandoning his leftovers, he left the three of them and slammed his door behind him, not wanting to hear any more. He would rather stare at the ceiling cracks instead of facing this reality, this dark grim future, so that's just what he did.

* * *

 

It was days before Dan truly left his room, only coming out to use the bathroom and pick up the plates of food outside his door. Most of the time he spent lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking it all over. From the life he had before to the life he has now the difference was so startling. He had learned that so many things he had thought were true weren’t. They were just Government lies. The Colour Thieves who had so easily taken him in and accepted him had changed everything.

Trapped in his own thoughts, Dan's days seemed to pass in a haze. It all blurred together in his memory: the patterns of the ceiling; distant ukulele music and talking; Phil bringing him plates of food that somehow, even though they were criminals living outside the law, varied a lot.

The first change Dan noticed during this time was that whenever he came back from a shower, his room would be just a little bit nicer. One day it would be a bedside table, the next an actual bed with sheets appearing in the corner. Once he even came back to see the walls had been painted brown like his old wardrobe had been, the paint still a little wet to the touch.

When that happened, it was as though a switch flicked in his brain, replacing animosity with understanding. Phil, PJ, and Dodie weren't cruel, they were only looking out for him. True, they were outlaws and he'd been taught to fear them his whole life, but they were only trying to keep him safe, and they'd just saved him from prison for crying out loud.

 _They're trying to make you feel welcome_ , Dan thought to himself as he studied the same ceiling patterns over and over,  _the least you could do is do something. Join them for dinner, get out of your room, something!_

It was that night Dan finally heaved himself out of bed and left his room for something other than food or the bathroom.

When he entered the lounge, PJ was in the kitchen cooking on the small stove while Dodie sat watching the news. He looked over and saw a picture of himself flash across the TV screen before it carried on with the next story.

"Hey," Dan said. Both of the Thieves immediately looked over at the sound of his voice.

"Hello, Dan! Finally feel like joining the rest of us?" PJ asked, looking up from his pan smiling.

"Yeah, I guess. Hey Dodie, anything interesting on the news?"

"Not really. They mentioned you a bit earlier," Dodie said. She didn't look up from the TV, fixated on the current report.

"Oh, okay..." He tried not to let it phase him. "Hey, where's Phil?"

"He's out at the Colour Market, but he should be back soon," PJ explained. "Hey Dan, could you set the table? Cutlery is in the drawer to the left of me."

"Sure," Dan mumbled, taking the set of mismatched knives and forks over to the coffee table. Phil came back not long after and they all sat down to eat the cod PJ had cooked.

"It's not often we get these sort of rich foods," Phil explained to Dan, "so don't leave any leftovers."

None of them did as they all ate ravenously, not even pausing for small talk. Only when the meal was finished and PJ had cleared the dishes from the table did Phil clear his throat.

"It's great to see you out of your room, Dan," he remarked, looking over at the boy next to him on the sofa as Dodie went back to studying the news.

"Yeah, I guess it's nice to be out." For some reason he couldn't quite look Phil in the eye.

"Now you've settled down a bit, I wanted to remind you that you still can't go outside of the flat yet." Phil raised a hand to stop Dan before he could interrupt. "Your face is all over the news still, you would get recognised straight away and locked up with them patrolling the area trying to hunt you or any other Colour Thieves out. It’s been hell trying to go about our daily business."

Dan nodded reluctantly as Phil continued, "We were wondering whether you would like an instrument or something to do while we're out on jobs. It might be difficult to get in but we are willing to try."

"Um, sure," Dan replied, smiling a little. Even if he wasn't free to leave the house, at least here he was free to be creative. "I can't paint or draw for shit," he continued, "but I've always been curious to be able to make music like you all do."

Phil smiled, glancing conspiratorially at PJ as he flicked his black hair from his enigmatic eyes. Dan didn't find it fair that someone could have hair and eyes that pretty to match. He shook his head, clearing himself of the thought before it got too far.

"Well, there is one instrument in the Market no one has been able to play," Phil continued. "It's large, but cheap since no one knows what to do with it. It's called a piano."

"How do you play it?" Dan tried not get distracted by Phil's face. It didn't quite work.

"Well, you kind of press the keys and it plucks strings... I think? It's in tune, we've worked that much out, but not a lot more than that. We have music for it and everything, it's just that no one has the time or patience to master it. Want a challenge?"

Dan couldn't help but grin back.

"I accept."

* * *

 

The next evening Dodie dragged Dan out of his room and sat him down on the sofa for "a very important meeting" that consisted of solely her and Dan. PJ was there as well, over in the kitchen doing something and shouting out handy remarks every so often.

“So Dan," she began, pacing up and down in front of the coffee table that was covered in a random sheet, "long story short, the piano is coming soon and you know nothing about music."

Noticing the worried look on his face, she broke her professional facade momentarily to lean over and stage whisper, "Don’t worry, Phil doesn’t either."

That finally got a smile out of Dan and she laughed before continuing, "However, me and PJ are experts on this subject, so today we are putting you through our award winning... Music theory course!” She pulled the sheet off the table with a flourish to reveal the pages of sheet music and flash cards scattered across it.

Dan couldn’t help but groan at the prospect of doing actual work, but Dodie quickly cut off that train of thought as she clipped him round the back of the head.

“There will be no grumbling in my classroom," she declared. "Come on, Dan, it'll be fun!”.

“Fine," Dan sighed, "let's get started.” He had to bite back another groan as Dodie dumped a pile of paper on his lap before sitting down opposite him.

“Right," Dodie pulled out one of the stacks bound by a rubber band, "let's start with the basics. First up: notes.”

As she held up a card with a small black dot and a line attached to it, Dan wondered if he should be writing this stuff down. Dodie seemed to be pretty serious about this whole master class idea which was weird as he'd never seen her serious about anything.

“This is called a crotchet," she explained, "also known as the quarter note.”

“Alright, it’s a crotch quarter.” Dan stretched out against the back of the sofa, already bored.

Dodie tapped him on the head with the flash card. “You’re not paying attention! Crotchet.”

“Crotchet,” Dan repeated around a yawn.

“How about we try something easier? Let's learn about the staves instead." Dodie pulled out a different piece of paper with a bunch of lines and letters on it. "Basically, we use a system of lines and spaces to dictate what a note sounds like based on placement and clef. It's always five lines and four spaces, with each spot getting its own letter."

She paused to ask nervously, "I'm not going too fast, am I? Are you getting it so far?”

“I think so.”

Dodie nodded and continued, “The way we remember which note is which through little mnemonics such as 'f-a-c-e' for the spaces in the treble clef and ‘every green bus drives fast’ for the lines." She gestured at the paper as Dan tried to keep up.

"Shit," she interrupted herself, "I should've explained how we name the notes first. Pretty much all that is is that we use the alphabet from A to G going up the stave and repeat as many times as necessary. Then there's sharps and flats and all in between, but we'll get to that eventually. I’m rambling too much, sorry.”

“No, I get it,” Dan assured her.

“Good! So all that's the treble clef, but there's also the bass clef, which we use for lower notes so you don't have to go too far below the stave. For bass clef lines we use the mnemonic ‘good boys deserve fine apples’ and... There isn’t really one for the spaces, which are A, C, E, and G. How about you make your own?” Dodie suggested.

“Okay… All Cows...Ejaculate Goo!” Dan snorted as PJ, who had been making dinner across the room, also burst into tears of laughter.

Dodie wasn't nearly as impressed.

“Dan!" She seethed, "You can’t have that as your mnemonic!”

Dan grinned, knowing absolutely that this was about to drive Dodie crazy. “It will help me remember it won’t it?”

"I, for one, am certainly never going to forget that," PJ chimed in.

“I guess so, but that’s not the…”

“Then it’s fine,” Dan cut her off.

Dodie rolled her eyes and said, “Ugh, alright, let’s just move on.” She immediately regretted her decision, though, when saw PJ give Dan a thumbs up in the corner of her eye.

“Well, you don’t have long, dinner will be ready soon,” PJ called over as he checked on his pie in the oven. “Here, Dodie, switch places with me, I'll take over the teaching. So Dan, what do already you know about music?”

“Some basics, mostly from watching you to and all I have just learnt.” Dan explained.

“Well, unlike Dodie, I don’t learn from sheet music, at least in the start," PJ said and sat down on Dodie's flashcards on the coffee table to face Dan on the couch. "Eventually I figured out how to read it, but I mostly learn by ear and make stuff up. If I hear a tune I can replicate it, but to do that you need to have some basic knowledge. Do you know anything about chords?”

“Not in the slightest,” Dan smiled.

It was the answer PJ had been expecting. "This is about the most basic way I can put it. Chords usually consist of three notes that harmonise and sound nice together. They usually have a space between them, but not always. So a C chord would be C, E, G. That's a major chord, which sounds happy, but sometimes we have minor chords that sound much darker. Here, how about I demonstrate."

He reached over to grab his guitar from the corner, carefully positioning his fingers before plucking three notes that Dan could only assume were the ones he had just been talking about.

“I think I'm getting it…” Dan nodded, picking up some of Dodie’s notes again.

“Good," PJ grinned, "because you’ve got a long way to go and dinner's ready.”

* * *

 

It was only a few days before the piano was paid for and brought (with much difficulty) up to Dan's room. Dan couldn't help get it up the stairs, but Phil had a couple of friends come along to assist him. They heaved it up into the apartment, the friends who had helped staring at Dan strangely in the living room on their way out. Dan had the feeling they recognized him, either from the news or stories from Phil, and he didn't quite know what to make of that.

As soon as the strangers had left, Dan and Phil sat down and tried to figure out how the whole thing worked. Sitting practically on top of each other to both fit on the small stool, they pressed pedals and keys to try to work out how the keys connected to the sounds. Whenever they worked out what a key did, Dan got so excited he forgot what they'd just done and they had to do it all over again.

They spent all evening like that, with Phil staring at Dan as he beamed at the tinkling sound the keys made, and Dan with his heart in his throat when Phil lightly guided his hand using his own. Phil did his best to work out chords and notes, but PJ was the real star in that aspect, stopping by to help them if they needed it.

Every once in awhile Dodie or PJ would poke their head in the room only to find that the two were too wrapped up in their discoveries to notice anyone else. Phil explained the sheet music as best he could, deducing which key meant which note, not noticing when Dan stared at his profile in the light from the main room. The night grew longer and Dan leaned towards Phil, resting his head on Phil's shoulder when PJ dropped off the lantern in the doorway. Phil was trying to play one of the simpler pieces, the slightly tattered sheets that read "Spiegel Im Spiegel" by someone called Arvo Pärt, when Dan started yawning more than talking. The soft plucking of keys was sending him to sleep as Phil carried on, trying not to mess up too much. Eventually, when it was obvious Dan wasn't waking up anytime soon, Phil propped up the sleeping boy and led him over to the bed. He turned to leave, taking the lantern with him and barely stopping himself from kissing his forehead, but changed his mind before returning to the piano and playing until Dan was completely asleep.

* * *

 

After that, life returned to normal (or at least, the normal Dan was growing used to). Every day PJ, Dodie, and Phil would go on their mysterious missions or trips to the Colour Market while Dan would sit and play through the music on the piano. He was slow and clumsy at first, but with each week that passed he was getting better.

The Thieves would come home every day with something for Dan, be it more sheet music, some food he'd never heard of before, or something new for his room. If they were extra lucky they would find a film or two, which they would all huddle on the sofa to watch, Dan always falling asleep on Phil's shoulder before the end.

Dan fell into an easy rhythm, got too comfortable, and he forgot he was still living outside the law. Forgot, that is, until one night.

Much like he did every other night, Dan played piano for a bit before abandoning it to eat his dinner and pace back and forth in front of the TV, the news playing in the background. It had been a late mission for the other three, but Phil had promised they would be home before ten o’clock. Dan glanced at the time in the corner of the screen to see it was now eleven with still no sign of the Thieves.

He was trying not to freak out, but the fact that they'd been gone so long was making him little fidgety. But when the news skimmed over a story about a group of Colour Thieves being “taken care of it” by the police, Dan’s insides flipped and twisted into a whole different level of anxiety. It was another half an hour before PJ stumbled in the door, supporting Phil until he could collapse onto the sofa panting.

Dan stood frozen on the other side of the room as PJ dumped a rucksack and some guns on the coffee table before sitting on the floor in front of Phil. When PJ started searching through the bag somewhat frantically, Dan snapped back to reality.

“Oh my fucking- Phil, are you okay?" He asked as he dug out the medical kit from the pile of junk in the corner. Phil didn't say anything, only tersely shaking his head. Dan turned instead to PJ, keeling on the floor next to him and floundering useless as he continued, "What happened? Where’s Dodie?”

“I’m fine," PJ fumbled with the plastic case, still panting from his run, "and so is Dodie, she’s just run ahead to get the doctor. As for Phil…”

“Dave was supposed to cover me, but I guess that's what you get for trusting someone out of your own team- Fuck, don’t touch that!” Phil recoiled as Dan tried to peel back his bloody trousers.

“They managed to hit him with three normal bullets and one stun, in his arm and left leg," PJ explained as he passed Dan the kit when he still couldn't get it. "We are lucky they didn’t hit him in the spine.” He glared lightly at Phil, but the shaking in his hands betrayed him.

“What are stun bullets?” Dan asked.

“Bullets that paralyse you in a localized area, hence the limping. He was also hit with a tracker, but we got that one off with a bit of difficulty.” PJ gestured to the gaping cut in his left leg. “They're quite big.”

“How long do you think til Dodie gets back with the doctor?” Ignoring Phil's protests, Dan tried to unstick some of Phil’s clothes from the particularly bloody areas. For once Dan was the calm one and he planned on fully taking advantage of that to help.

Taking care of people was sort of the only thing he could offer the Thieves, bandaging small cuts and finding the right ointments for bruises when they came back from scavenging missions among rusty ceiling beams and shards of glass. This, of course, was a whole lot more, but Dan was trying to block that out in favor of helping where he could.

“She went ahead of us," PJ started, "so hopefully it shouldn't be too long befo-”

He was cut off by another cry from Phil.

“ _Shit_ ,” Phil shouted when Dan finally got his bad leg out of his trousers, "I'm gonna _kill_ Dave!"

With the blood soaked cloth out of the way, they could assess the damage. There were three wounds on Phil’s leg, two smaller ones that were slowly swelling up and the cut that Dan could only assume was where the tracker had been cut out.

“Right," Dan shook his head to clear his thoughts of anything panicky, "We're gonna have to stop the bleeding and clean the wound a bit, Phil, but just with water while we wait for the actual doctor. PJ, get a bucket of water, some soap, and some towels or something.”

When PJ returned they both washed their hands before pulling on some gloves from the kit. Dan threw a blanket over Phil before grabbing one of the cloths and applying the necessary pressure to his leg, ignoring Phil’s rather creative cursing. Once the bleeding had finally stopped, PJ used another wet cloth to gently clean the wound of bits of gravel before Dan securely bandaged it.

As they were trying to elevate his leg, PJ accidentally brushed too hard against the bandage, causing Phil to grimace and hiss in pain again. “Be careful," he said between his teeth.

“Sorry, sorry…” PJ mumbled as they placed it carefully on the arm of the sofa.

“Can you do the same for his arm? I’ll check his pulse as well.”

Dan was in the middle of counting Phil's heartbeat when Dodie finally burst through the door, followed closely by an older women with a large bag in one hand and her long hair tied back in a neat bun.

“Dodie, thank fuck." Phil flinched as PJ wiped off some of the blood on his arm. "Where have you been?”

“Miss Regan wasn’t at home," Dodie explained, sitting next to the others on the floor, "so I had to run all over the city looking for her. You’re looking better.”

“I’ve been worse. Hello Jane.” Phil smiled weakly as PJ finally wrapped up another bullet wound on his left arm and Dan finished inspecting one of his wounds.

“Hello Phil, PJ, and- I'm afraid I don’t know your name,” Jane apologized, placing her bag on the table.

“Dan, I'm new." Dan went to offer his hand before realising his glove was covered in blood and thinking better of it. "I was working on a nursing course before I left Braith.”

“Well, how is the patient?” The snap of her pulling on plastic gloves felt oddly relieving to Dan, bringing about the realisation that she was in charge now and he was off the hook.

“Stable?" Dan replied. "He has three injuries on his left leg and two on his right arm. Three shatter bullets, one stun bullet, and one tracker device which has been removed, I'd ask PJ about that though, I wasn't there. We cleaned and bandaged everything temporarily, but the tracker one at least needs stitches or something, I don’t know a great deal about bullet wounds. His heartbeat is regular, though, and I don’t think he’s lost too much blood.”

She must have been able to tell how frazzled he was as she nodded and said soothingly, “That’s fine, you’ve done really well. I could do with your help, Dan, but maybe Dodie and PJ should leave?”

“That’s fine, I know he's in good hands." PJ smiled, taking off his own gloves and throwing them away before heading to the bathroom. "Come on, Dodie, let's go clean up.”

Dodie seemed to hover in the doorway anxiously, glancing back and forth between Phil, the pile of gear on the floor, and PJ in the bathroom.

“Don’t worry about the guns," Phil grunted, his eyes closed as Jane pulled back one of the bandages already soaked in blood again, "we can return them tomorrow. You go wash up.”

“You won’t be going anywhere for a few days, Phil, but I'm sure Dodie can handle it in the morning,” Jane waved Dodie towards the bathroom to join PJ. She reached over to her bag to pull out a rather large looking needle. “Alright, I'm ready to start, how about you, Dan?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be," Dan grimaced as everything got a lot more visceral. “Let’s go for it.”

* * *

 

Phil healed up with minimal scarring and after a couple of days stuck inside, much to the delight of Dan, he was finally up and about. Although Dan was going to miss bringing him breakfast in bed, he was happy to see Phil back to his usual happy self. It got a lot more lonely without him around during the day, of course, but Dan still had his piano and Phil was still around more so than usual, having been advised by Dr. Regan to take it easy still.

Returning from his first mission back, about a month into Dan's life with the Thieves, Phil walked in on Dan playing a song the sheet music called "Ingenue". He knocked on the half open door but Dan didn't seem to notice so he quietly snuck in to listen to the rest of the piece. Leaning against the wall behind him, Phil waited for Dan to finish and watched as he continued playing, a look of total concentration on his face.

 _Beautiful_ , Phil thought as he stared at the back of Dan's head. When the song had finished he clapped, making Dan jump in his seat.

"Sorry, I thought you heard me come in. That was really good, that song you were playing," Phil admitted. "You know, the Thieves gathering space has a piano. Maybe you could go there and play for people."

Dan nearly fell off his chair. "At the Spectrum?"

He had never been there before, only hearing of it in stories from Phil, PJ, and Dodie, but he knew enough about it to understand what a big deal this was. Not only was it a star restaurant, but it was also where most people hung out and all the raid-planning meetings were held. It was the center of any Colour Thief’s life.

"Yeah. They've got the only other piano we've found, and since you're the only one who can play it I'm sure everyone would love for you to show them. Right now it's mostly just guitars down there, people are dying to hear something different for a change."

Dan felt a slight twinge of nervousness quickly run through him. Playing in front of all those people he didn't know would be absolutely terrifying, he was sure of it, but he squashed down the thought.

"I would love nothing more."

"Good. And hey, Dan?" Phil said, turning around from the door before he left, "Be ready early tomorrow. We're going on a mission and you're coming with us."

* * *

 

The first thing Dan heard the next morning was Phil saying, "Change of plans." If he was being honest, it wasn't the most pleasant way to wake up.

He moaned as he rolled over, trying to pull the duvet back over his head before it was ripped out of his grasp. He looked up to see Phil standing beside the bed and his only thought was something along the lines of, "Thank goodness I decided to put pyjamas last night."

“What do you mean 'change of plans'?” Dan grumbled, sitting up.

“We, as a group, decided you need to prove yourself first before we can go on a mission. Come on, get up, we need to get there soon,” Phil replied as he chucked a towel in Dan’s direction. “Have a quick shower. And I mean quick.”

“Alright, on it, boss.” Dan smirked, sitting up and making his way to the bathroom. After his "quick" shower, he ran back to his room, pulling on the best clothes he had before coming out for breakfast.

PJ, being the amazing cook he was, had made pancakes and somehow acquired toppings for them.

“Morning, Dan," PJ asked from his place in front of the stove. "Ready to go out?” He skillfully flipped the last pancake up in the air and the impressed Dan watched as it landed on top of the small stack that PJ then passed to him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Dan shrugged, grabbing the plate and a fork from the counter nearby.

“Just help yourself to toppings,” PJ explained as he poured out more batter onto the pan for his own breakfast.

“Thanks, PJ, this looks great.”

Dan poured syrup all over his before taking a seat on the sofa next to Dodie, who was already tucking into her own pancake covered in chocolate sprinkles.

“You enjoying that?” Dan asked, watching as she stuffed the entire rest of it in her mouth. It was hard to tell what she said, but Dan thought it might've been a yes. Pulling his own plate closer, possibly in the fear that Dodie might inhale his pancakes too, he tucked his legs underneath himself and looked around the rest of the bright living room.

Phil had already eaten his breakfast and was rummaging through a chest of drawers in the corner of the room looking for something. It wasn't long before he apparently found what he was looking for, pulling out a colourful purse and a larger backpack before standing up, brushing down his knees, and closing the draw with a bang.

“Come on, we don’t have time to waste. Eat up!” Phil bossed, collecting the empty plates from the coffee table and piling them up by the sink.

Following Dodie's example, Dan stuffed the rest of his pancake in his mouth and followed Phil to the kitchen.

“We don’t have time to wash up if we want to get there when they open,” Phil told him over his shoulder, nudging PJ to finish his own breakfast faster.

Dan was completely confused, but still content from his delicious pancakes, so he was only mildly concerned. He managed to swallow the rest of the pancake in his mouth before asking, “Where we going?”

“It's a surprise," Phil smiled, "All you need is some of your sheet music. Bring some you know really well."

Dan dashed back to his room to grab his music just as Dodie bounded up to join them at the sink, placing her plate beside the others as Phil asked her, "Ready Dodie?”

“Yep! Let’s get going!” Dodie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, practically dancing out the door ahead of the others.

“Dodie, don’t run off! You know you’re not meant to go off your own,” PJ called after her, but the sound of her pounding footsteps down the stairs was growing fainter as he watched from the doorway. After a moment of deliberation, he sighed and ran out after her, tossing his apron to the side, lowering his coloured pilot goggles.

"Well, if you can’t beat them…”

“PJ!” Phil shouted after him as Dan dashed out with the music in his arms. He sighed, grabbing the sheets from Dan and stuffing them into his backpack before grabbing Dan’s hand to pull him out of the door.

The door slammed shut behind them as they chased the other two, stumbling down the stairs to the street.

“Come on, Dan! Never ran before?" Phil laughed, dancing slightly ahead of Dan but still tugging on his hand to hurry him along. "Feel what it’s like to be free!”

The outside of the building was very different from Dan's expectations of it based on the apartment. The front was in ruins, the dirty yellow brick falling apart in some places and covering the street in front in mustard dust. The staircase they ran down led straight from the front door to the sidewalk, poking out amongst the much taller buildings. It looked as if it had been shoved in between the surrounding skyscrapers as an afterthought, the stone not matching the steel beside it. It had charm.

The rest of the street looked like an abandoned city centre, gloomy and desolated. It was full of empty houses interspersed with smaller stone buildings like theirs, crowded in with toppled over towers and rubble piled in street corners. The whole city seemed to be full of creepy winding streets, twisting and turning in the crowded space, yet these three people seemed to know it like the back of their hands.

On the way to wherever they were going, the group passed the occasional person dressed in colourful clothes like theirs, either scavenging from the deserted houses or walking, sometimes with animals like dogs lolloping beside them. For such a dreary place, they all seemed the happiest folks in the world, and the gang seemed to know everyone by name.

After walking for a long time, they eventually arrived at their surprise destination. Turning down yet another shadowy side street, Phil led them to what looked like just another small abandoned house. In a row of similar houses on the outskirt of the city, the only thing distinguishing it from the others was a large number 44 on the door. As soon as Phil knocked on the door, however, it ceased to be just another brick house, as a brick by the door slid out and grey eyes peered out through the small gap.

“Who goes there?” A gravelly voice asked, blinking at the sudden sunlight.

“Calm down," Phil assured the pair of eyes, "it’s just us, Brian.”

He hesitated, staring suspiciously at Dan. “Who’s that with you?”

“Our friend Dan, remember?”

“Oh yeah, you mentioned him. Just give me a second then.”

Brian pulled back, quickly replacing the brick before a series of clanking and clicks rang through the thick wood. The door quickly swung open and revealed an older man that Dan could only presume was Brian. He wore a brown coat, buttoned up despite the heat, and a crumpled cap cover in pins covered his messy brown hair. Once the group had all filed into the barely lit space, he closed the door behind them, replacing the many locks and bolts on the door.

“Sorry Phil," he said gruffly before turning round to address them, "have to be careful. There are spies everywhere these days.”

Phil nodded politely. “I understand. Have there been any infiltrations this week?"

“No, not yet. We haven't had much trouble since that chap who got in last week.”

“That's good to hear." Phil put a hand on Dan's shoulder as the group started moving further into the room. "We should get going, but we'll see you later.”

“No doubt of it, Phil,” Brian winked as Phil pushed open the door in the back.

“See you later Mr. Brian!” Dodie called over her shoulder, lagging behind the others before PJ came back to drag her along through the dim house.

It wasn’t well kept inside, and the carpets were covered in mud, but Dan noticed they weren’t stopping as they walked through the house until they opened the next door into the messy kitchen. There they finally paused, Phil with one hand on the last door with a smirk on his face.

“You ready?” PJ asked, smiling as Dodie looked on with a huge grin. Everyone's suddenly cheerful attitudes were starting to freak Dan out.

“I guess so," Dan eventually said, trying to suss out what their faces were saying. "Where are we?”

“Why don’t you have a look for yourself?” Phil said, opening the door onto the busiest place Dan had seen since leaving Braith that used to be his home.

Dan gasped. “ _The Colour Market._ ”

The fences of the surrounding houses had all been knocked down, forming a giant back garden down the entire block. Tents of all colours and sizes stretched down the street, casting of a rainbow of shadows with bunting stretching from tent to tent. Every available surface that didn't have people was covered in potted flowers with bees humming amongst the crowd in the sunlight. The whole place was bustling with people dressed in colour, all so happy and different.  _Everything_  was different.

“Come on, we can’t just stand around staring!” Dodie shouted before running off into the crowd.

“Dodie!” PJ shouted and was about to run after her again when Phil grabbed his arm.

“She’ll be fine," Phil assured him. "She’s safe, okay Peej? Go enjoy yourself.”

“Fine. But if she’s flirting with that Sammy boy, I swear…” PJ muttered before wandering off in the opposite direction. Phil chuckled under his breath as he finally stepped out of the doorway and onto the grass.

“Coming Dan?" Phil asked, offering him a hand. "I have some errands to run, shall I show you around?”

“Show away!” Dan beamed taking Phil’s hand as Phil led him into the marketplace.

Phil, it turned out, had a long list of things to get including food, materials for repairing on the house, and new clothes for Dan. Each stall was more unique than the last, all combining creativity with goods. Even basic things like grocery shopping were completely different to Dan when it came to dozens of foods he'd never even heard of before.

After filling Phil's backpack with the week's food, they wandered along to what Phil called the scavenger stalls, those run by the people who went exploring to find odd bits and bobs from abandoned houses. Some didn’t have proper stalls but instead were just picnic blankets with their goods spread across them.

Getting the bits they needed involved a lot of hunting in piles of the collected rubbish and then bartering between Phil and the stall owner he seemed to know for the price. It was much more interesting shopping with Phil rather than the supermarket he used to have to visit. These people were passionate and compelling compared to the monochrome robots Dan had known as cashiers.

At one point, they walked past a stall selling paints and what Dan could only describe as colour-based weapons. They stopped so Dan could admire the millions of unique shades, Phil patiently naming them all when it became obvious Dan didn't know even half of them. Dan was particularly drawn to the brown, with its subtle and almost warm shades. Even with all the other choices he had now, brown felt like the best colour possible to Dan.

Eventually Phil had to pull Dan away to another stall where they bumped into PJ examining what looked like brushes and canvases.

“Hey Peej!” Dan called when they were in earshot.

“Hey Dan, having fun?” PJ asked, replacing the brush he was looking at back on the stall.

“Yeah, it’s amazing,” Dan beamed. “What are you looking at?”

“Outside of being a Colour Thief, I still like to do actual art, and I need a new type of brush for the painting I'm currently in the middle of. By the way, where’s Phil?”

“What? He’s right…” But to Dan’s surprise Phil wasn’t there. Dan could've sworn he had come over to see PJ as well...

“Here I am.” Phil suddenly appeared on Dan's other side, putting his backpack on.

“Sorry, I just spotted something I needed to get," he explained before turning to PJ to ask, "Nearly ready to go? We've just got to get Dan some new clothes, but then head off, yeah?”

“I'm all set, but Dodie's lost. She’s probably talking to that crush of hers, Sammy, or she's with Evan. Seriously, sometimes…”

“She’s allowed friends, PJ,” Phil cut him off. “You're not her brother. Nor her mother, for that matter.”

“As good as,” PJ insisted.

“Alright, Mother Peej, now can we focus on the task at hand?" Dan smirked. "First we have to get me some clothes, we can worry about Dodie later.”

“Fine! Let’s just go.” PJ huffed turning to pay for his brush before stomping off ahead of them.

Dan turned to look at Phil, who giggled quietly before following PJ back towards the centre of the market. For some reason Phil wasn’t interested in buying casual clothes for Dan but instead fancier clothes for some event they were apparently going to later. It was yet another "surprise" that Phil refused to tell him anything about, no matter how hard Dan pressed. He finally settled on the midnight blue suit with a flashy star bow tie, partially for it’s individuality, but also because it made him look “handsome” (according to Phil, anyways).

After paying for it, PJ dragged them both over to where he believed Dodie would be, and soon enough they found her, talking to her friends Sammy and Evan and sharing some candy floss. Dan hardly got to say hello to either before they were gone, PJ practically dragging Dodie away like an overprotective brother.

“Ugh, PJ," Dodie complained as PJ pulled her towards the house they'd come in, "why are you always so fussy?”

Dan sent Phil a questioning look, but he only shrugged in answer as they headed out, Dodie and PJ continuing to argue. It was too much effort to break off their arguments, Phil knew from experience, and they'd undoubtedly cause a scene if he tried to stop them in the middle of the market, so it would just have to wait. Only when they got inside the house did Phil tell them to shut up as he beckoned Dan into a side room, bringing along Dan's suit.

“You’ll want to look good where we're going next," was all Phil would say in explanation. He must've noticed the nervousness in Dan's nod, as he went on to explain, "We're all getting changed too, but we’ll be out in a minute."

Phil handed Dan his new clothes. "You can lock the door, if you want,” he said in reassurance before stepping out of the small room. It only took Dan a short time to get changed, quickly stepping out of the room to join the others in saying goodbye to Brian at the door and walk back towards the city, all of them in their fancy wear. They weren't the most polished of looks, some of their clothes obviously second- or even third-hand, but that was to be expected knowing where they were. Dan had quickly gotten used to nothing being perfect and new like his old home, and compared to their normal clothes, the entire group looked practically regal.

First out the door, as usual, was Dodie, in a dark purple chiffon dress. It hung off her shoulders nicely and suited her well, the layered fabric of her skirt rippling in the gentle wind. Somehow she even had styled her short hair slight so it curled slightly. It was almost like the outfit she'd been wearing when they first properly met, only more elegant and classy.

Trailing close behind was PJ, who wasn't quite as dressed up as Dan and Dodie, wearing a white shirt with a red bowtie and his usual black skinny jeans. With a forest green jumper slung over his shoulder, he looked effortlessly flawless, as if his whole look was just as casual as any normal t-shirt and jeans combination he normally wore.

Then, of course, there was Phil. He looked like he belonged on a whole different level from the rest of them with his black shirt and bowtie under a red and blue tartan jacket. He looked even more handsome than usual, but more than that he looked like he was someone important. Even the large backpack he was still wearing didn't ruin the illusion, but he said he was planning on leaving it in the cloak room of wherever they were going so as not to ruin his look.

It was another long walk back into the city, but Dan quickly realised they weren't headed home as they went down an even less familiar street, deeper into the thick of skyscrapers. Everything looked eerie in the dark shadows of the tall buildings and Dan would have been scared if he was on his own (as it was, he still jumped a little at every stray cat surrounded by his three amazing friends). It wasn't an issue for long, however, as they soon reached a desolate hotel with the windows boarded up, their destination.

Dan found this old building was just as full of surprises as the last as they walked in the door to find themselves in a lobby with shabby curtains molting and falling of the wall.

PJ carefully walked up to the desk, stepping over the smashed vase on the floor, and rang the bell. In stark contrast with the rest of the room, it rang out clearly, sounding almost brand new. Before the bell could finish echoing in the empty lobby, one of the panels behind the desk slid back to allow a porter to step out, who replaced it carefully before turning round to look at the guests.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, how may I help-? Ah, Phil, Mr. Lester.” The man nodded curtly, recognising him. “Are you here for business or pleasure this evening?”

“I have a meeting later this evening at seven, but first we have a table for four booked, I believe." Phil smiled, gesturing to Dodie and Dan before continuing, "We have two of the tonight's entertainers among us also.”

“Names?” The porter pulled out a book from under the desk that looked brand new too.

“Dan Howell, pianist, and Dodie Clark, singer.”

“Ah yes, you two will be performing at six. Pianist, you say?" He asked curiously, taking note on his book. "Hardly anyone even knows how to take care of that old thing, never mind play it. You any good?”

“I’m alright, I guess,” Dan blushed and looked down at his shoes, not knowing how to answer.

Dodie stood up on tiptoes to lean over his shoulder. “He’s amazing!” She exclaimed.

“And what was the table booking under?” The porter skimmed one finger down the list of names.

“Lester at five,” Phil smiled.

“Yep, I’ve got you down." The porter replaced the book under the table. "One second; I’ll go find a waiter to escort you up. Would you like me to take your bag?” Phil nodded, shrugged off his heavy backpack of supplies, and handed it to the porter, who smiled once more before exiting through one of the old doors at the back of the room.

“Alright," Dan glanced around at the rest of the lobby, confused, "where are we?”

“The most important place in town,” PJ said mysteriously, fiddling with a bit of rotten wood on the desk.

Before Dan could ask for any kind of elaboration, the porter returned through the swinging door, a woman in black with a mostly clean white apron tied around her waist following behind.

“This is Nahima and she will be your waiter tonight." She smiled as the porter introduced her. "Enjoy your meal, everyone.”

“Thank you, Bertie," Phil said kindly. "Nahima, lead the way.”

“Right this way, gentlemen and lady.” Nahima smiled, holding the door open and gesturing for the group to follow her down the hall. “I didn’t expect to see you here so soon, Phil, what with no major meetings happening tonight.”

“Well, I have friends performing, and I'm meant to pick up a small assignment, so why not kill two birds with one stone?” Phil laughed, charming as ever.

She led them towards an elevator at the end of the corridor which grew nicer and more put together with every step, completely losing its abandoned look by the time they stepped inside the waiting lift.

They all squeezed into the slightly too small elevator and Nahima waited until the doors had closed before asking, “Which floor?”

“The Restaurant,” PJ replied. She hit the corresponding button and the elevator hummed to life soon enough.

“So I know Phil, but have the rest of you all been here before?” She inquired as they whizzed up to the fifth floor.

“I haven’t,” Dan answered from the opposite corner, getting more nervous with each minute full of talk of performing and dinner. The lack of space in the quickly moving elevator wasn't helping with his slight panic and he was this close to leaning his forehead against Phil's back in front of him just for some stability.

“Well, I am certain you’ll love the service and atmosphere at the Spectrum.” She beamed at him, having to look over Phil's shoulder to do so.

All it took was that name for it all to click suddenly in Dan’s head. He was going to be playing piano in front of all the people eating in the dining room and meeting up on the balcony above, the main place any Colour Thief could play. Before he could finish his thought, the elevator stopped and opened into the fanciest restaurant Dan had ever seen.

The pristine white walls emphasised the varying colourful tablecloths on each table, black leather chairs surrounding them. The windows were still boarded up, but unnoticeable under long black curtains and unmissed with the large glittering chandelier lighting up the whole room as though it were the middle of the day.

On the far end of the room, past the many happy diners, there was the stage Dan and Dodie would be performing on, which had a piano set up on it, as well as more instruments than Dan could name. As they walked in, a young woman was up, picking away at a guitar faster than lighting.

“Isn’t that Sophie Newton up there?” Dodie asked, giggling and poking PJ in the chest. “Would you look at that, it is, the girl PJ has a cr-”

“Shut up, Dodie,” PJ blurted, cutting her off before they were within earshot of the stage as they were escorted across the room. Their table was right in front of the stage, covered in a mint green cloth with a single white rose in a vase in the centre. From where they were sitting they could look up at the less formal café on the balcony, where people came to watch their favourite singers, meet with friends and colleagues, or simply enjoy some music.

“Here are your menus, I’ll be back in a moment to take your orders," Nahima chirped as she walked around the table to pass out their menus before walking off.

“Right," Phil addressed the table once the waitress was gone, "no one's allowed any alcohol, except PJ. I've got a meeting later and we can’t have either of you two falling of the stage or stumbling through your pieces. Speaking of which, here's your music, Dan.” Phil pulled the folded up sheet music from his jacket pocket and passed it to Dan across the table.

He had grabbed the two of his pieces he was most confident about, one of which involved a little help from Dodie as he refused to sing in front of an audience, but seeing the people he would be playing for tonight, he wasn't sure it would be enough.

"Thanks," Dan said, sliding the sheets into his own pocket before turning back to peruse the extensive menu. He was growing tired of lists of unfamiliar names, but eventually he settled on whatever sounded most familiar.

The chirpy waiter returned, taking their orders before leaving again and allowing the normal conversation to take over the table once more. As they talked about the market and told old inside jokes that were patiently explained to Dan, he felt more and more at ease with these people. Dodie stole Phil's breadsticks in retaliation for some humiliating story and Dan joined in the laughter and he suddenly realised these were his friends. In that moment, it was remarkable how he could ever have thought they were going to keep him as a prisoner.

* * *

 

By the time they were all finished with their delicious meals, it was nearly six, which meant it was nearly time for Dan to perform. As he was led backstage, one of the staff explained that someone would introduce him and he would play his solo song before Dodie would join him for their duet.

“I can’t believe you’re playing piano."

Dan flinched, dropping the edge of the curtain where he'd been trying to peek out at the crowd. The enthusiastic staff member didn't seem to notice his jumpiness as they grinned and continued, "In all my time here, no one's ever used it for anything besides tuning up. I hope you do well!”

“Thanks.” Dan stared to the ground as he shuffled from one foot to the other. The nerves were starting to get to him as he waited in the shadow of the curtain, clutching his music tight to his chest.

The fact that he was the first person to play the piano and everyone would therefore be paying close attention scared him. He was never good with pressure, and having that kind of expectation to live up to made him all the more certain he would fail. It certainly didn’t help when the announcer made a big deal over that fact and the ambient conversation noise dropped down to a minimum.

“...And now, please help me give warm welcome to our pianist Dan Howell, who will be playing 'Comptine d'un autre été' by Yann Tiersen!” The announcer stepped back from the microphone to clap, encouraging polite applause from the diners and café-goers. As Dan stepped out he could feel all his muscles tense under the scrutiny of every pair of eyes in the venue. Even the café-goers who hadn’t so much as glanced at the main stage so far that night were now crowded round the balcony edge.

Dan smiled nervously, spreading his music out on the stand and adjusting the seat to the right height. He could feel the expectations of the crowd and it made his fingers waver, but as soon as they touched the piano, nothing else mattered. Pressing down on the keys, it became only him and the piano, his hands falling into the familiar rocking motion of the piece. Although Dan knew every note by heart, the simplicity of the song never failed to amaze him. It didn't start out complicated, no, but instead grew into it. The notes rang out through the silence of the room, but Dan wasn't looking at the space it echoed through or the stunned audience. He didn't even need the sheet music, his eyes following his fingers instead as he played from memory. All he had to do was feel the music.

He let the music guide him and he understood what Phil had meant earlier. All he had to do was feel it, feel free, and he wasn’t himself anymore, no, he was something else altogether. In the music he had been playing over and over, he was finally freeing himself, realising what he had never truly understood until this moment. Despite having an audience, he didn’t feel nervous or guilty under the attention he had been taught not to seek out. This music and these friends were re-teaching him what was right and wrong. Here in this world it was alright to stand out, to be human. It was alright to be greedy and different and creative and bad and attention seeking and good. Most of all, it was alright to be yourself.

It was alright to be Dan, the boy who liked piano and the colour brown. Dan who could run, have friends he liked, could feel, could be. It was freeing to be without the shackles of black and white, stuck between nothing and everything. With only two shades to choose from, there could never be enough to fully encapsulate life in all its colour and complexity. Colours reflect life, with its messiness and non-conforming madness.

He knew it was silly, but it felt as though the piano was just as affected by his realisation and that made it feel even more real. Just like this piano that no one had really understood before him, Dan could exist independently in this world and not be part of a huge plan for plans always go wrong for him anyway. Where was the dull life he had planned out before this world? Dead.

Humans are curious and messy and independent, and that was one thing the government couldn’t take away. They couldn’t take away all that history and human nature and control him. He was free.

Even occupied by his thoughts he didn’t make one mistake, fingers following the flow of the music naturally. If anything it improved his performance, pushing him to play better, to stand out, be free.

His fingers stalled at the very last moment as he hesitated ever so slightly, unwilling to let the moment end, but he finished the piece just as flawlessly as he had started it. There was only a brief moment of silence for Dan to breathe in before a roar of applause and cheering.

It was the loudest sound Dan had ever heard and filled his ears with ringing that made it hard to concentrate, but nevertheless Dan stood up and bowed as PJ had taught him to. Apparently their clapping was a gesture of thanks and praise of his ability, and his bowing was meant to acknowledge and thank them in return. Dan had learned all sorts of things from the three Thieves.

“That was amazing!" The same staff member emerged from backstage to approach the microphone again. "Give it up again for Dan Howell, the only pianist we've ever seen!”

Dan gave a second bow; it seemed as though it was the right thing to do at further praise. Before he could escape back to his piano, however, the announcer continued.

“But don’t worry, folks, that isn’t all of it. Mr. Howell still has one final song to share with us, and this time he's joined by the singer and ukulelist we all love… Miss Dodie Clark!"

Dodie appeared from behind the heavy curtain, looking utterly relaxed and smiling as she stood next to the staff member still at the mic. Dan envied how at ease she seemed to be onstage, moving around not confidently, but naturally fitting in under the stage lights and scrutiny.

"Together Ms. Clark and Mr. Howell will be performing 'Everything Else' from the musical Next to Normal." The announcer stepped back so Dodie could approach the microphone as Dan sorted his music out.

Some people had already returned to their conversations and food, while others, satisfied by Dan’s playing, started to leave. Once Dodie turned around to nod at him, Dan started in with the introduction and recaptured the attention of the reset audience.

Out of all the songs Dan had learned, he would probably say this was his favorite. Not just because it was interesting to play, but because he understood the train of thought of the narrator. Even though it was from a musical, which he'd come to learn meant it was very specific to a story, Dan could relate so well to parts of it that Dodie’s singing and acting made feel even more real. He understood the lyrics, felt them resonate with his own life, and couldn't help but get a little emotional every time he played it.

Like Mozart and the narrator, he was full of doubts and plagued by so many awful thoughts and memories,that never came through in the music he played. Dan understood what the person in the song meant by playing constantly “til it’s perfect” or until you can’t anymore. Back when he had lived in Braith he had no way to avoid succumbing to his fears, but now he can just play until “everything else goes away”.

But while the narrator was using music as a means to an end and a way to escape, Dan was already away from the place that caused his doubts and fears. Unlike when he was in Braith with all his worries breathing down his neck, out here he didn’t feel sick or look pale. He was done with all this shit about black and white, but he couldn't help but remember that crushing feeling of doubt and expectations when he played this song..

Dan didn't need to look up to know that Dodie felt just as strongly about it, also connecting it with her escape of Braith and her paranoid parents. He could tell just by the way she sung it, her voice full of emotion but perfectly reigned in when it needed to be. It wasn’t acting.

If there was one thing he had learnt since leaving Braith it was that imperfection is just as beautiful as perfection. We make mistakes and with time we change, our colours fading with us, but they still leave a mark on those around us. Even a painting can’t be perfect forever, cracks and discolourations appearing over time. Just like Mozart, he had flaws hidden below the surface, but he knew now it was okay. He knew now that he wasn’t just an occupied shell but human, with all the imperfections that entailed. And everyone in the room knew it too as Dodie sung the final lines with all the passion she had left.

Everything else went away for a moment and there was an understanding silence throughout the room before everyone started to cheer. After another huge round of applause, Dan bowed and snuck out the back to leave Dodie alone onstage to do a few songs of her own composition on the ukulele. He returned to the table with more difficulty than he had expected as he had to weave through people who wanted to stop him to compliment him on his performance at every table he passed. By the time he managed to dodge enough patrons to get back to the table, PJ was the only one there.

“Well done, Dan," PJ grinned and patted him on the back as he finally took his seat, "that was amazing!”

“Thanks, Peej. Where's Phil gone?” Dan asked, looking round and half expecting the missing man to jump out from behind a neighbouring table.

“Oh, he’s off picking up our next mission. According to him the other 'oh so wise and mighty ones’ didn’t think you were up to a mission, and Phil challenged them and proved them wrong," PJ explained. "After that performance they knew they could trust you. Thank goodness Phil’s been around here and on the Committee so long or you might have never got a mission.” He paused to take a drink, allowing Dan to jump in.

“Wait, since when has Phil been on the Committee of Colours?”

Dan was surprised, to say the least. The Committee of Colours oversaw the running of the whole Colour world, including the distribution of missions to Braith. To be on it required at least ten years in the Colour world and an impeccable reputation. Nothing about Phil being a part of it was mentioned in his short lessons on Colour Thief culture, which was a bit of a big thing to leave out.

PJ nodded around his half finished drink.

“He practically grew up in it, he's lived here his whole life. His father was killed by the Government when he was just a child living in Braith. He had been caught selling colour, got taken away to the Institution for good, and they were carting little Phil off to an orphanage when some old friends of his got him away to the Colour world."

PJ emptied his glass and leaned his elbows in the table before continuing.

"With no one else to do it, he was raised by pretty much everyone around here, proving himself and getting into the Committee of Colours as soon as he possibly could. When we met he was living undercover in Braith, the youngest person in the Colour world ever allowed out on missions.”

Dan was stunned and couldn’t speak for a few minutes as PJ words sunk in. He had always felt as though Phil was something more than the average run of the mill Thief, but never to this extent. It was a bit weird to finally have his suspicions confirmed, and he felt better in knowing that it wasn't just his infatuation that made Phil all that he seemed to be.

“Don’t tell Phil I told you that," PJ sighed, interrupting Dan's train of thought. "It’s quite personal, he'll probably get annoyed." The last word broke off in a yawn.

“Tired? We can head back after Dodie’s done.” Dan suggested.

“Yeah, that would be good. I mean, we still ought to wait for Phil and all, but we have a busy day tomorrow, what with the new mission.” PJ smiled across at Dan. “Nervous?”

“As nervous as you can be about breaking into the city you've just escaped from to do god knows what when you're a known criminal.” Dan had to laugh just hearing how ridiculous it sounded.

“Phil's always loved surprises. I didn't even know I was on my first mission until about halfway through,” PJ giggled remembering. Dan never heard the full story as they were both too busy laughing, still a mess of giggles when Phil joined them as Dodie finished up her last song.

“Got the mission?” PJ asked as he sat down.

“It won’t be too trying I am afraid, but she was pleased with Dan's performance tonight so I got something,” Phil replied, obviously disgruntled by whoever "she" was.

“Well, at least it’s something." PJ stood up and threw on his jacket from the back of his chair. "Ready to go?”

“Sure, the meal's on the house so we can leave whenever. We'll meet Dodie at the stage door." Phil grinned as he stood up again immediately, yawning. "I, for one, am ready for bed.”

They picked up Dodie from backstage, still thrumming with the energy of her performance, and headed out the front lobby after saying goodbye to their waiter and picking up Phil's backpack from the front desk. They were a good three blocks away before Dan started to shiver and realised he had left his jacket backstage.

"Here, take mine." Phil slipped off his own jacket and shoved it into Dan’s arms before he could argue. "It's fine, I don’t feel the cold.”

“Thanks.”

Dan tried not to blush and failed spectacularly as he put his hands through the sleeves. He couldn't help but notice that it smelt exactly like Phil, the strong smell of drying paint, despite the lack of it on this particular jacket, mingling with something that was only describable as Phil. Dan pulled it closer around his chest, both to ward off the chill and because it felt like a hug from Phil.

Phil, who was now starting to shiver himself, despite his self-proclaimed immunity to the cold. It would be weird if Dan gave the jacket back so soon, and in all honesty he was just looking for an excuse to put his arm around Phil in an attempt to warm him. He did so quickly before looking away as he felt his face warm up again, completely missing Phil unfolding his arms to return the gesture and smiling up at him as they all walked slowly home.

When they finally returned to the apartment, Dodie immediately threw herself onto the couch, completely exhausted from the long day of walking and performing. She and PJ went to their rooms fairly soon after that and Dan was about to follow their lead when Phil approached him in the dim hallway.

"I didn't get to say so earlier," he leaned in to whisper, "but you really were incredible up there tonight. I mean, I've always thought so, but it's nice to know that other people appreciate your talent as much as I do. It was beautiful and emotional and Dodie was great as well, but you were amazing. Thank you for sharing that with everyone, and more importantly, with me."

Dan's eyes widened, half so he could see better in the dark and half because of what Phil had said. He nodded slightly as he whispered back, "I wouldn't even know pianos existed if it weren't for you, so you really only have yourself to thank."

He wondered if Phil could tell what else he was thanking him for wordlessly, but judging by the look on his face and the way he held on just a little too tight as he hugged Dan goodnight he knew at least some of it. Dan leaned back against the door and listened to the quiet footsteps headed down the hall before going to bed himself. After all, he had a mission tomorrow. He needed to be well rested.

* * *

 

His room was still mostly dark when Dan woke up the next day. The sun had just come up outside the window in the lounge and it shining through his open door faintly enough for him to see Phil gently shaking him awake.

"What the fuck?" Dan rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head. "No, too early."

"Dan, do you want to go on this mission or not?" Phil in the early morning was extremely blunt, Dan was finding out.

"Of course I do, but it's so cold out there."

"Fine, then you give me no choice," Phil said. Hooking one arm under his legs and one around his back, Phil swiftly scooped Dan into his arms before he could protest.

By the time Dan was awake enough to realise what was happening, he had been carefully set down in the bathroom, tiles cold against his bare feet.

"Hey!"

"Go have a shower," Phil called, throwing a towel at Dan as he closed the door behind him.

Huffing indignantly, Dan reluctantly got ready the excitement started finally setting in. After months of living among the Colour Thieves, he was about to finally find out what it was like to actually be one of them.

The hot water pounding down on him, he thought over how he got to where he was today. Being kidnapped, finding out he was actually being rescued, having his world tilted on its side, befriending his original captors, doing all the things he thought he would never be able to; it had all happened in only a few months.

Starting to shake with anticipation and nerves, he jumped out of the shower, hastily toweling his hair and wrapping the towel around his waist. Checking the lounge for any people, he dashed to his room and managed to avoid running into anyone until he got to his room and saw Phil was there. He was so caught off guard that he somehow managed to trip over his towel and fall flat on his face, which meant he was now lying on the ground. Naked. In front of Phil.

"Wow, Howell, keep it PG! Nice butt, though." Phil laughed a little, turning around and blocking his eyes as Dan grabbed the towel from the floor and stood up.

"Shut up, would you?" Dan shouted, trying to cover himself without dying of embarrassment.

"Hey, you know I only swing one way, and right now you are  _really_  helping that."

"Well I don't," Dan muttered to Phil's back, "so would you please shut up?"

He was in front of his wardrobe and had just pulled on clean clothes when Phil quipped, "Tell that to your ex."

There was utter silence in the room as Phil realised what he had said and Dan turned to him.

"My what?" He looked calm, but there was a waver in his voice that told Phil that he wasn't really.

"We were spying on you, of course we saw you kissing that boy in your room."

"What the fuck, Phil? This- that was my  _private_  life!"

"That we saved you from!"

"You  _kidnapped me_ ," Dan shouted at Phil as they both turned round to face each other.

"Don't you mean rescued?"

"I never asked for your help."

"You never turned it away either." Phil stepped closer, less intimidating now that Dan had grown to be the taller one in the time he'd been living there.

"Just back off, Lester." He turned around, threw his dirty pyjamas into the corner next to his salvaged desk, and tried to stay in control of himself. "It's none of your concern what my business was with that boy."

Phil was too far now, but as much as he knew it was a bad idea and that he should shut up before he ruined everything, he just couldn't stop. "James? Oh, we know all about him and the extra 'maths' help."

"Don't you dare go there," Dan muttered.

"How he held you and kissed you..."

Dan could feel his face burning, but he wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or rage. "Shut up."

"But did you know about how he turned you into the fucking police so  _he_  wouldn't get in trouble. He didn't give a flying  _fuck_  about you, all he cared about was himself. He might have got off with only prison for a couple months but he saved himself from worst by risking your life. "

Dan, not trusting himself to talk anymore, just shook his head vehemently as Phil continued, "You wanted a pretty boyfriend and all he did was  _use_  you."

"Get out."

"And we saved you. All he wanted was to have fabulous wild sex with you, we're the ones who actually  _cared_."

That was the final straw for Dan. Pushing Phil out the door, he shouted, "It was  _my_  life, and I may have made some shitty decisions in it, yeah, but you have no right to talk about it like that. Just leave me  _alone_." Dan slammed the door shut in his face and shoved his desk chair under the doorknob. With that, he laid back in bed, ignoring Phil's knocking and shouting.

* * *

 

It was hours before someone came and knocked softly on Dan's locked door. He had been lying in bed, looking at the ceiling and thinking over everything he'd shoved down in his mind in his time there. What was he? Did he need a label? Did Phil like him? Did  _he_  like  _Phil_? He didn't have the answers to any of them, so he sat up and rubbed his eyes before looking towards the door.

"Dan, it's me," PJ's calming voice came through the door. "I have food." Dan hadn't eaten yet that day and he was starving, so it didn't take him long to drag away the chair and open the door. He sat back down on his bed as PJ walked in, closing the door behind him.

"Thanks for this," Dan spoke up after a moment of uneasy silence. He lifted the bowl PJ had given him, stirring around the too hot soup inside.

"It's fine. I'm sorry about all that." PJ waved one hand towards the door.

All of a sudden Dan wasn't hungry anymore. He stared down the floating vegetables in the broth as he said, "He had no right.  _You_  had no right."

"We didn't set out with the intention to invade your privacy like that," PJ said softly as he sat next to Dan. "We were trying to protect you and accidentally saw things we shouldn't have. I'm sorry, we should've told you sooner."

"I might've overreacted a bit," Dan conceded, "I'm sorry too."

"Phil really cares about you, you know? He's always been very adamant that we made sure you stayed okay, which was why it took us so long to get you out of there even with everything James did. Phil's hated that guy for selling you out, he's just been trying to keep it to himself."

PJ paused, his expression pensive and far-off as he turns around to check there's no one in the doorway before he continues.

"All he was doing was trying to protect you, you know?" He said. "That's all he's ever really trying to do. But once we got you out of there, well, it was all we could do to stop him from going back. He wanted to seriously hurt that boy and he would have if we hadn't convinced him to stay and make sure you were alright."

"He did?"

"Yeah, he just wants the best for you, but sometimes he gets carried away, I suppose." PJ shifted on the bed as Dan nodded pensively. "Are you okay though?"

"I guess." He shrugged noncommittally. "I'm still a little upset, but mostly I'm just mad at myself now."

"I think you should go talk to him, I know he wants to apologise. I've already told him off and he just wants to talk to you. Should I go get him?" PJ hesitated. 

"Yeah, do," Dan sighed.

PJ stood up, nodding to Dan curtly before leaving the room. He was still mostly a mystery, but Dan had found he had a calm aura about him. Maybe that was why Phil had loved him; he seemed to go for strange people like himself.

"Dan?" Phil's usually gruff voice was soft as he peered around the door. He waited until Dan had nodded before closing the door behind him and standing in front of Dan. For a while neither of them said anything, the silence both comforting and stifling. As long as no one said anything nothing would change, but nothing would get better either.

"I'm sorry," Phil eventually blurted, "for everything. For the fight, for kidnapping you, for pushing you to do things. I understand if you want to punch me or something, and you have every right to, but I just..."

He was cut short by Dan's lips on his. Dan had been watching him talk, this man he used to be so afraid of that had turned out to be the kindest person he'd ever met, and suddenly he couldn't contain himself. He could only lean in with his eyes screwed shut and take Phil's face in his hands. All he could think of as he kissed him was that he wished that this was anything but a mistake.

It was neither soft nor pure like some thought first kisses should be. No, it was harsh like their lives, demanding and not quite perfect, but it still held the feelings between them. Only when he felt Phil's hands rest on his sides could he breathe again. It was tentative, almost as though his hands were moving of their own volition, but their grip tightened as Dan sighed against his mouth.

When the need to breathe became overpowering Dan let go and stepped back. He sheepishly looked at the ground as Phil stared at him with a blank expression on his face. Phil was still processing what had happened, confused (but not displeased) at this turn of events.

"Okay," Dan started rambling immediately, studying the concrete floor under his feet, "you were right, I'm not straight. But the way you approached it earlier was bad, especially since you had just told me the people I had thought were my friends knew more about my personal life than I ever wanted anyone to know about."

Phil frowned at him apologetically, still a little dazed, and Dan continued, "You don't exactly have the best sense of timing, but I also may have overreacted and I'm sorry. No one's perfect, you know? Apart from maybe you most of the time. The point is now I know you were only looking out for me and I'm grateful for all that stuff you did for me. And I just guess," he waved one hand around wildly, "now you know I like you."

"I really am sorry," Phil started as soon as Dan finished, "I crossed a line. But if it led to that, well, I'm not that sad. You are ridiculous and lovely and there is no better way you could have told me."

Dan huffed out a laugh as Phil grinned. All his anxieties about whether that was the right thing to do evaporated with that smile.

"Not to cut this short," Phil continued, "but there's still time for your first mission, if you're up for it. Sorry I ruined it earlier, but if you still want to go..."

"Wreak havoc with my best friends and the guy I might be in love with? Of course." Dan smiled, taking Phil's chapped hand in his own softer one and giving it a quick squeeze. Phil's grin got even wider and Dan knew he'd made the right decision.

* * *

 

"This isn't going to be hard to do but hard to get to." Phil paced up and down the room between the TV and the sofa where Dodie, PJ, and Dan were sitting.

The three Thieves were dressed in their raid gear, stained with their own bright colours, the clothes they had kidnapped Dan in. They looked vibrant besides Dan, who was still wearing his normal, slightly faded clothes.

"Our target building is near the centre of the city," Phil continued, "and the only way to get there without risking getting caught is by climbing across rooftops."

"I know  _you_  can do it," he said, pointing to Dodie and PJ, "but Dan hasn't had the practice you have. The problem is, we don't have any other options besides this." Phil gave Dan an apologetic look as Dodie hummed nervously.

"Its fine," Dan reassured them as PJ clapped a hand on his shoulder, "I can learn quickly."

"Alright then, grab your gear and let's get going." The three thieves break off, heading to their own rooms.

"Oh, Dan," Phil waved him over to the door, "I went ahead and got you a colour I think you will like."

"A what?" Dan followed him and caught the bag Phil threw in his general direction.

"I'll explain once we get there. There's no time to talk now if we want to be there during peak traffic," he winked as PJ and Dodie joined them, their own packs slung across their backs. “Just take this backpack.” Phil explained getting a stained backpack out of the chest of drawers.

"Come on, Dan, let's go have some fun." Dodie bounced on her toes in anticipation.

Phil took the lead, running out the door and into the sunshine. Dodie followed close behind as PJ pushed Dan in front of him and locked the door. The group ran down the stone steps, and out to the abandoned street surrounding their apartment.

"Don't you ever worry a building will just collapse one day?" Dan shouted to PJ over his shoulder looking at the building next to their own.

"Not really," PJ shouted back. "They've been standing for hundreds of years and haven't fallen down yet, so they're pretty solid. Plus, most of them are home to people like us and we reinforce with whatever we can get our hands on. Now keep running."

Having slowed down to listen to PJ, Dan looked up and found they were losing sight of Phil and Dodie down the narrow street. They soon caught up, but it wasn't long before they all stopped at the base of a building with a metal ladder on the side.

"We take this to the top and then we can make our way across the rooftops," Phil said, lacing his fingers together and holding them out. "Come on, Dodie."

He gave Dodie a boost up so she could grab the bottom rung and nimbly climb up over him. She quickly reached the top of the section and kicked at the ladder until it fell down to where everyone could reach it.

"Dodie, you're a star," PJ shouted up.

"Oh, I know," she joked, flicking her hair as she continued clambering up towards clear blue sky. Dan watched as PJ followed after, the two of them scaling the side of the building.

"Come on, Dan, no time to waste." Phil snapped his fingers as he pushed Dan, still staring after them, towards the first rung.

"Shut up," Dan said sarcastically, "you just want an excuse to stare at my butt."

"You said it, not me," Phil laughed as he climbed up after Dan.

Once they had all reached the top they started running again, this time across the flat roofs of the buildings. The streets and alleys were narrow, making it was easy to jump over the gaps between rooftops. Occasionally it would be too high or too far to jump, but there was always something like a plank of wood to help them cross, left by a previous Colour Thief. Dan quickly adapted to the jumping and, more importantly, the risk-taking, following the lead of the more experienced Thieves.

By the time they made it to the edge of the humming metropolis it was early evening, the sun close to the tops of the towers in the distance. The dimming sunlight illuminated the divide between the sleek monochrome buildings of the city and the crumbling stone of the Thieves' territory, between Dan's old life and the one he had now.

"They have guards down at the bases of the buildings and the ground level is barred from our world with a fence," Phil whispered as PJ looked carefully over the edge, "but no one is on the roofs, so we have to make the jump quickly so no one sees. You okay Dan?"

"It's a bit far isn't it?" Dan asked cautiously, looking at the gap.

"We'll all make it," Phil murmured back, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek for luck. "Don't worry, just follow our lead."

Dodie was the first to jump, clearing the gap gracefully and hardly making a sound when her soft shoes hit the gravel roof. Next went PJ, stealthy as a shadow, who only stumbled a bit upon landing. Phil wasn't nearly as graceful, but he cleared it easily in one bound and landed safely on the other side. He turned back, arms stretched out, waiting to try to catch Dan if he didn't make it. And then it was Dan's turn.

Dan took a deep breath and stepped back from the edge briefly before having a little run up and finally jumping. The two seconds he was in the air lasted forever as he looked at the sidewalk far below and imagined what it would be like if he missed. He very nearly did, too, but Phil was there, reaching out to grab his arms as his feet scrabbled for purchase on the ledge.

"Thanks," Dan whispered as Phil helped him up.

"No problem. It's all easy from here, come on." Phil offered his hand to Dan, pulling him forward as they started running again.

It took only a couple minutes to get to their destination, the town hall. It was the centre of the city, white and pure, and loomed over the busy workers below. The edge of the roof curled like the top of a column, perfect for hiding Thieves, and the four of them sat pressed against the inside of the ledge as they looked over the passing crowds below.

"Perfect timing, guys," Phil smiled, looking over the edge at the passing crowds below, "Time to get out the gear."

PJ, Phil, and Dodie unstrapped their bags from their backs and started unpacking them as Dan watched. Some were familiar, like paint cans and spray paints, but there were also things he'd never seen before, like the cylindrical flat tins and clear plastic balls.

"What are those?" Dan asked Dodie as she pulled her own tins out of a pocket.

"This is coloured chalk powder," she said, unscrewing one tin. "They're great for throwing as they just sort of float around and stain everything." Inside the tin was a fine powder that she ran her fingers through, staining them bright purple.

"And this?" Dan asked as he picked up one of the clear globes, the insides purple like the rest of her stuff.

"Those are paint bombs, filled with either actual paint or that same powder, and they burst on impact and coat whatever they touch," she said, poking at one and watching the paint move inside them.

"Come on, Dan, leave Dodie alone. We have to get going," Phil interrupted as he finished off unpacking his own turquoise gear.

It seemed to Dan that they each had equipment in colours that matched their personalities: Dodie was purple, rich and bright like her personality; PJ was a forest green, warm and matching his eyes; and Phil was dark turquoise, mysterious and deep like the seas.

Dan found himself wondering what colour he was and he hastily pulled open his bag to see his gear, all the same dark brown.

"I know you would have loved brown," Phil said, crawling below the edge of the roof to come help him unpack, “Plus, it's kind of what brought us together."

"What, the colour brown?" Dan asked.

"Well," Phil smiled, "technically, yeah."

"Would you two stop being so sappy and hurry up?" Dodie asked from the corner. She and PJ were already ready, pressed up against the edge with their gear beside them and colour-stained masks covering most of their faces.

"You ready to be a Colour Thief?" Phil held out a mask, brown to match Dan's paint.

Dan took the fabric, putting it on over his smirk as he said, "I think I always have been."

"On three, everyone then!" Phil called out, pulling on his own mask. "One... Two... Three!"

The colour bombs flew through the air before splattering against the pristine white streets below, staining the ground purple and green and blue and brown. Before the panicked pedestrians below could figure out what was happening, the Thieves threw their coloured dust and watched it float down onto the confused Cops running around. Cans of paint were cracked open and poured down the side of the building while Dodie and PJ leaned over the edge and spray-painted the once clean walls. Soon enough the entire square was drenched with colours.

"Time to run," Phil shouted over the sounds of screaming workers and police. The four grabbed their packs, dashing across the roof towards the next building.

 _This is what it feels like to be free_ , Dan thought, holding onto his own gear and leaping across the gap alongside Phil and the others.

_This is what it feels like to be a Colour Thief._

**Author's Note:**

> OMGOODNESS THAT’S IT (for now). I can honestly say I have never made something I am so proud of so I hope you liked it and if you have any questions of comments please let me know and I will do my best to answer them. Honestly I am up for hearing your interpretations of it or if you want any little bits of backstories. Criticism is welcome, it is how I become a better writer.
> 
> Again thanks to my beta EJ and artist Sarah their links are below and thank you for reading it!
> 
>  
> 
> If you really loved this story it has been nominated for the phanfic awards on tumblr and you can vote for it through these links:
> 
> Best Fic: The Colour Thieves - https://polldaddy.com/poll/8271042/
> 
> Best AU: The Colour Thieves - https://polldaddy.com/poll/8271906/
> 
> Best Storyline: The Colour Thieves - https://polldaddy.com/poll/8271105/
> 
> Originality award: The Colour Thieves - https://polldaddy.com/poll/8278088/
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out the awesome artwork by Sarah here: http://vocalsinmyveins.tumblr.com/post/131758668375/her-grey-eyes-glistened-with-excitement-as-soon-as
> 
> And here is the playlist of songs if you want to go listen to them after reading it: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHteWXLkw2LmW4H5iK8KevA7a8XBDYFBq
> 
> Author: @lestericalphan  
> Artist: @vocalsinmyveins (on tumblr)  
> Beta: @moonfullofstars (on tumblr)


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